


To Hell in a Hand Basket

by Mikimoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mayhem, Murder, POV Outsider, Undercover, fear toxin, possible dub-con elements due to fuck-or-die type situation, the besmirching of New Jersey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-08-12 23:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikimoo/pseuds/Mikimoo
Summary: Jason has been undercover for months working a very serious case. He is expecting Tim to help wrap things up, but gets Dick instead - which complicates things practically and emotionally.Also, there is fear gas, puns, explosions and sex. Not necessarily in that order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forgettheghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgettheghosts/gifts).

> For forgettheghosts, two of whose awesome prompts particularly called to me... and luckily I was able to combine them into one! I hope you enjoy - I am sorry for the slow writing, and incomplete status - it will be completed soon!
> 
> Thank you to Sharon, my long suffering beta
> 
> And to the mods for running this exchange again
> 
> Warnings: Murder, mayhem, behaviour that could be considered under-negotiated kink (humiliation etc) some slight dub-con elements (although both participants are happy to have sex with one another, the circumstances are perhaps not ideal) Outsider POV for some chapters. Undercover characters, so false names are in play (Foxx= Jason, Gresinka = Dick)
> 
> Anything I have forgotten I will add in individual chapter notes.

Dr Vivian Vern flicked through her notes with neat, precise movements; things were developing very well with the project. The synthesizing and testing of the product was progressing seamlessly, and she had to admit- to herself at least- that the testing had indeed been improved by that buffoon Ivonovitch’s melding of their separate assignments. It meant a supply of test subjects who were the toughest and most well trained soldiers available, aside from the few that were allowed to join their ranks. Soldiers were much better subjects for a military grade project, and the results far superior to the early tests on weak willed civilians. 

There was also the added bonus that meant she got to cherry-pick the surviving recruits she worked with. She had three men and one woman that were loyal to _her _and not Ivanovich, who was a crass and ignorant man - albeit one who was good at his job.

“We got the next batch ready for testing?” The man himself asked, his big frame slumped in the seat across from her desk. 

She shuffled her notes, annoyed at his grating voice. “We do. Shall we meet them?”

Ivanovitch shrugged and rose from his chair like a big lumbering beast. She sneered inwardly. “I believe Foxx is waiting for us with the failed recruits.”

Foxx was the most elusive of the people she had picked to be her team. He was young enough to be malleable but still professional in his work. The only worrying issue, was that although he ticked every other box, she had nothing on him at all. He had no skeletons in his closet that she could use against him, no apparent unsavoury appetites, and didn’t seem interested in bedding her – which she didn’t take personally; after all, it was a double edged sword, sleeping with your boss. He did like to run his team ragged though, so perhaps he was inclined towards power and pain. It would be a lot easier if he found a fuck buddy, or indulged in some depraved activity like torture or murder or jerked off to animal porn, but instead he remained steadfastly boring. If she couldn’t get a handle on him she would have to replace him - which would be a terrible shame seeing as he was bright, dedicated and easy on the eye. Hopefully something would shake loose with the latest recruits. 

The testing room was a large space with a reinforced glass room in the centre, affectionately- and annoyingly- called the ‘Fish Tank’ by the people who worked with her in the lab. It was a brilliant piece of engineering, set up with as many external sensors and apparatus as they could manage - subjects did have the unfortunate tendency to rip their wires off in the throes of panic which was not very conducive to her research. 

“Foxx,” she greeted her man, as they entered. Dark haired, tall and broad, he cut a fine figure as he stood with the first of the failed recruits, already shirtless and waiting to be wired up for the ‘final test’. Idiot.

“I’m Marc Green,” the idiot said. “This is it then? After this I’m in?” He elbowed Foxx who gave him an impassive stare, perhaps a little tinged with distaste. 

“Yes,” Ivanovitch said. “This is it.” He heaved his solid bulk into one of the observation chairs and left it to Vivian to prepare the subject. 

The idiot smelled of sweat and was practically bouncing on his toes in nervous excitement as she put the sensors on his head and chest. 

“In you go,” she said. “Final test.” 

It was frankly astonishing how well this new way of doing things was working. The fools went in _willingly_, thinking it was the next stage in their training. No more dragging screaming participants into the glass cage while they tore at the wires in a panic - not to mention that always skewed the data when they were terrified before they even got hit by the gas. 

The idiot took off his boots and socks, and dropped his pants, stepping through the door in just his shorts before the door whooshed closed. Vivian pressed the button to begin recording. “Subject 369, full test of lethal dose of batch K11.” She started the process. This version had a small twist, they called it ‘Reliving’ and, theoretically, it would make the subject relive their worst experiences. With a little added fear, naturally. The idea was that it could reveal truths about a person if used sparingly, as torture and a rather extreme truth serum, but it had not been refined yet and the result so far had been death, usually from heart failure. 

“Let’s give him 35cc’s to start.”

“I like this one,” Ivanovitch said, clearly referring to the drug rather than the man, as they watched 369 begin to gibber a bit. “What do you think, Foxx?” 

Foxx shrugged. “It looks much like the others so far.” His voice had the faintest hint of Gotham to it. 

Now there was a place that spewed out fucked up people; it gobbled people up and spat out what was left, like wood chips from a shredder. An interesting City.

“How long since you left Gotham?” Vivian asked absently as she eyed the readouts from 369 while she still could. It really didn’t take long before they all got ripped off and she had to rely on the sensors in the Fish Tank – and now _she_ was calling it that, damn it. 

“A while,” Foxx said. “Was a shit place to grow up - I got out as soon as I could.”

“Did you ever meet him? Crane I mean?” Ivanovitch said.

Foxx sighed, “No, I never met him - or the Batman, or the Joker or any of the other loons. I know the world seems to think that seeing as Gotham is always on the news, that its citizens rub shoulders with the capes and clowns, or the rich jackasses like Wayne or the mayor. Truth is, mostly the people who fuck you up are the same as everywhere else - organised crime, gangs and petty criminals, your family. The rest is just bullshit for the most part.”

“Calm your tits, Foxx, I was just asking,” Ivanovitch grumbled. “Never heard you speak so much at once, must have some fond memories of the place.”

“Sure. There was a dumpster behind Ginnie’s Diner where they put out leftover burgers for the dogs every Thursday. Was good eating.”

Ivanovitch laughed loudly - but Vivian didn’t think Foxx was joking. “So, no slumber parties with Crane and his crazy juice then? You missed the big one when the city got dosed a couple of years ago?” he asked, still chortling like a fool.

“Nope, no slumber parties, and I missed the big one because I was in a Santa Priscan Jail. Nice place, got a tropical feel.”

Ivanovitch snorted. It sounded like the last gasp of a dying wildebeest.

“Crane lacked vision,” Vivian put in primly. In the tank, 369 started pleading for his mother. 

“The man’s certifiable, he’s got nothing _but _visions.” Ivanovich said.

Vivian glared. “He had this incredible weapon at his disposal and he wanted nothing more than to release it on a single, mediocre city - in _New Jersey,_ no less! No offence, Foxx.”

“None taken. Seems like a reasonable place to start, if you’re going to start wiping places off the map.”

“True. But the point is, he could have done _anything_ \- made billions, ruled a small country - but instead he chose to attempt petty vengeance on a city that doesn’t even care. Stupid and short sighted. We will use it for so much more.”

369 was clawing at his eyes, having stopped pleading and instead just wailing. Vivian sighed; this needed a great deal of refining still. Very disappointing.

“You have your new recruits ready to train, Foxx. Five this time. Only the best will join the ranks - the rest need to be the best they can be before we put them to the test. A few weeks, perhaps, and I will have worked out a way to make this more of a delicate instrument rather than a bludgeon.”

“Sure,” Foxx said, completely indifferent. She really had to find a way in to his psyche. She didn’t want to get rid of him, that would be regrettable, and his wit, at least, was entertaining. 

“Shall we go through your newbies?” Ivanovitch asked. He liked choosing the ones that would annoy Foxx the most, although it seemed closer to affectionate joshing rather than a serious attempt to undermine him. Men were ridiculous. 

“Sure” Foxx said, again. He was slightly more communicative with Vivian than with Ivanovich, but he said lot with his thick brows and blue-green eyes - variations of disgust, anger or annoyance mostly, but he seemed to know that his monosyllabic responses would piss Iavnovich off the most, so dropped communication the very minimum. Again, ridiculous. 

Ivan snorted. “For your line up today, we have; Pirez, cartel enforcer who fucked the wrong woman. Lane, ex-merc born in South Africa, worked in war zones all over the world. Kelner, ex black-ops, kicked out for some of his more... unsavoury tastes. Gresinka, raised in some sort of survivalist militia in Markova and Gregor - no last name - from somewhere unspecified in Eastern Europe. They all already hate each other. Enjoy.”

Foxx hummed and his eyes narrowed, perhaps already thinking of ways to make them suffer in the intense training.

“Weren’t you expecting an assistant?” he asked, out of the blue. “I remember you saying matters would go faster if you had one. Some sort of computer whizz-kid to help with your algorithms.”

“Getting bored already, Mulder?” Ivanovich asked.

Foxx’s eyes rolled up at the nickname. “I don’t like wasting the men I train on product that is this unstable - it feels like a waste of work. Having it more refined for the next batch would be much preferred, that’s all.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Vivian said, nodding. “And yes, I was expecting an assistant, but it seems to have fallen through. He was arrested trying to enter the country. Very unfortunate. Thankfully he knew very little about our project, just to be on the safe side.”

“I see,” Foxx said. He sounded slightly aggrieved. Perhaps it was frustrating to see all your hard work be turned into a squalling mess clawing its own eyes out - as 369 seemed to have done, now whimpering and bleeding, twitching weakly. Very disappointing.

“You’re right, Foxx. By the next batch, I will have made this the delicate tool it should be.”

For some reason he didn’t look any happier.  
  


  



	2. Chapter 2

Joe Kelner didn’t bother hiding his frank appraisal of the new recruits he was going up against. They were a mixed bunch, but he figured that he and Lane were a match, both in height and weight as well as experience. He was certainly going to be the biggest competition but also, until that point, probably the best person to side with against the rest. Gregor, tall and wiry, said little but his eyes were sharp and didn’t seem to miss anything – he was too much of a dark horse to bet on. Pirez was from a different sort of institution, so they would have to wait and see how he adapted to a military style environment. Gresinka was already insufferably undisciplined and irreverent. The pipsqueak was going to be the first to go, and he was fairly sure all of the rest of them were on board with that.

Kelner had thought getting rid of Gresinka would be easy until he saw the man move; he may have topped in at a few inches short of six foot, but he moved with the easy, languid grace of a predator. It gave credence to his over confident manner – he had likely earned his place here. That didn’t mean Kelner wasn’t going to make it his mission to get rid of him though; he hated his pretty, fine boned face and obnoxious smirk. Girls probably fell over themselves for that face and shitty attitude. Kelner was looking forward to knocking some of his teeth out.

It looked like he wasn’t alone in his desire. The expression on their leaders face when Gresinka grinned at him was frosty to say the least. Foxx was annoyingly young – Kelner was older by a decade at least- but it did mean people could rise in power here with hard work and a cold heart. That was doable. Foxx’s youth meant he had less experience, unless he’d started fighting in his early teens. Kelner snorted internally. His accent was complete inner city American, not many child soldiers there. His lack of overall experience meant perhaps Kelner could topple himandtake over the top spot.

Foxx lead them to a glorified shed that they would be bunking in. “Each of you claim a bed and kit, and change into your gear. Meet me outside.” His voice was cool and indifferent.

“Hey!” Gresinka called, as Foxx walked towards the door. “What do we call you?” 

Foxx turned and pierced him with a look that should have chilled his balls right off. “You call me Sir. You call me with ‘hey’ again, and I’ll rip your dick off and feed it to you.”

“Noted,” Gresinka said, infuriating smirk hovering around his lips. “Sir,” he added as a seeming afterthought. 

Kelner reassessed again; he was fairly sure the little shit wasn’t going to make it past basic at the rate he was going.

Gresinka hopped onto the bunk closest to him and started digging through his kit bag, pulling out clothes and weapons and leaving them scattered across the covers. 

Lane sneered and began sorting his gear in a much more dignified manner. He shared a look with Kelner, and it was clear that they were on the same page when it came to their opinion on the Markovian shit-ball.

When Gresinka started pulling off his clothes to dress in the nondescript black fatigues they had been provided with, Kelner couldn’t help but notice the scars; they were numerous and serious, looking to be from both combat and torture. His apparent glib nature certainly seemed to be hiding a lot of experience in the field. 

“So,” Gresinka asked, “What brought you guys to this project? Apart from the promise of a chunk of cash of course – or is that it?” His English was perfect, with only a slight accent blurring the words. Spent a lot of time away from his native Markova, clearly. 

Everyone ignored him except Lane, who just sneered again. Gresinka rolled his eyes, face full of expression and emotion that said nothing about what was actually going on in his mind. “Guess I’ll have to just beat you losers at that obstacle course out front, huh?” he said as he pulled on his black shirt and stuffed his feet into his new boots. 

“I doubt it,” Lane scoffed.

He wasn’t scoffing later, watching Gresinka’ s slim, flexible back as it stayed steadfastly in front of them as they ran the course while Foxx watched them critically. Gresinka was effortlessly ahead of them, tackling jumps, walls and fences like they were nothing. He was good - very good. It was galling. Kelner had been running these things for over a decade of his career and he had been leagues ahead of his peers, and now he was dealing with some upstart, mouthy kid running rings around him. It wasn’t going to stand. 

Apparently he wasn’t the only one with that opinion. “A fast time,” Foxx said. A small sneer on his lips as he took in Gresinka’s enormous ego. The guy was practically preening - in fact, he looked like he had just taken a stroll in the garden rather than run a course that had Pirez wheezing slightly. 

“I’m destined to be your golden boy, eh?” Gresinka said, smirking and bouncing on his toes like he still had energy to burn off.

“What did I tell you about addressing me?” Foxx said. A hard, mean, light in his eyes. 

“Sir,” Gresinka said in a way that would have made Kelner’s sergeant smack him into next week. 

“Run it again, twice. You fall behind your original time, you get to do it again.” 

Gresinka did a lazy, insubordinate salute, seemingly unconcerned, and started his second run, while Foxx watched. 

“He may be a prick,” Pirez said, “but he sure has some energy.”

He wasn’t wrong. The kid was flying around the course with what appeared to be joy - the kind you would see in a hunting dog that’s been cooped up all day and was finally getting to stretch its legs. He was leaping the walls and swinging across the bars like gravity was just something that happened to other people.

“I guess they train them hard in Markova,” Lane grumbled as Gresinka ate up the ground and kept his time up. “Wonder if they train ‘em to survive a knife to the back, too?”

Kelner grunted. He could have done three rounds of the course, but not at that speed. It was aggravating. The little show off was grinning as he made his way back to Foxx at a jog.

“You think antagonising me is funny? Do it again. Another two,” Foxx said. “Don’t slow or I’ll make you go again, and again until you can’t run anymore.”

Gresinka opened his mouth and then seemed to struggle with himself. There was the slightest curl to Foxx’s lip, like he wanted him to back chat again, wanted to be given the excuse to knock him down to size. Gresinka, for his part seemed to recognise that, but was still struggling not to be a smart -ass anyway. He shut his mouth and gave another, cocksure salute instead. 

And that’s another run,” Foxx said, the smirk fully visible now. “The rest of you, target practice,” he said without turning. His eyes rarely left Gresinka, running the course again. 

The kid was toast. Kelner should just let Foxx take care of it. He should.

“Again,” Foxx said, “Again.”

Apparently he really meant what he said; he was going to make him run until he dropped. But Gresinka was just as stubborn - even red faced and sweating, he didn’t back down or lower his eyes. 

Night had fallen by the time he finally stopped. Sweating, wheezing and shaking with exertion he flopped onto the grass on his back and started half-heartedly rubbing his legs, trying to stave of the pain he was going to be feeling tomorrow. Foxx stood above him, watching and smirking. 

“Better get some sleep, or you won’t be any use tomorrow.” Fox chucked him a Gatorade, some water and a ration bar. Gresinka caught them out of the air, but his hands seemed clumsy.

“Not so smug now,” Lane sneered at him as they bunked down. Even post shower Gresinka was red faced and trembling. 

Gresinka shrugged and downed the rest of his water. Wincing as he sat on his bunk and rubbing at his knee he replied, “Dude’s a hard ass that’s for sure.”

“And you think you’re one too, do you?” Lane asked, sitting himself on his own bunk.

Gresinka shrugged again and grinned a little. “Sure. I’m at least as stubborn as that jackass,” he said.

“It’s your funeral,” Pirez said, wrapping himself up in his blanket.

“Probably,” Gresinka agreed amicably. He was still massaging his knee and thigh, working his muscles with practised hands. “But we’ll see.”

Kelner snorted and bunked down himself. Gresinka may have been talented and strong, but he was clearly unused to working in an environment with actual discipline. That made him nothing but a stupid green kid- and Kelner couldn’t wait to be the one to knock him into place. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was as bad as Jason had feared, hearing the name ‘Gresinka’. He just knew deep in his rotten soul that it was Dick. As sure as when he sensed an enemy was trying to get the drop on him, he just _knew_. Which was the opposite of awesome, because the whole point of Tim coming to help Jason clear up this clusterfuck of a mission, was that he was coming in as _staff_. Dick however, would have to work his way up the ranks like Jason had, but unlike Jason, he was going to struggle.  Because these people didn’t play fair, and those that did died screaming. And those that didn’t die horribly, had to watch those that did. Jason wasn’t sure Dick had that in him, his inability to see even the worst assholes suffer was both one of his most endearing traits and one of his most frustrating. 

When shit had gotten complicated for Jason, he had given the competition a little nudge towards an early grave. More than a little. Dick was not going to be able to do that, Dick was going to have to stay alive and win a top spot honestly, while his ‘classmates’ tried to out do him. When that didn’t work they would probably just shank him in his sleep. 

Actually, considering the wonderful impression he seemed to have made on them, they might just do that anyway. 

An additional problem that he had to assume the Bats were unaware of, was the toxin itself.When Jason joined the ranks, four long, god awful months ago, the toxin they were testing was closer to the original that had terrorised Gotham on and off for the past many years. He, like the rest of the Bat-Bunch, had been at least partly immune, due to a rigid regime of boosters and shots. When he had gone through the testing, a month after he begun his training, the toxin in his system had still been enough of an effect to freak out convincingly, but not like the batch Dick was going to have to contend with. The new variant was likely to be both very unpleasant, and possibly a massive security risk, if the Doc managed to refine it in time. 

But first, Dick had to make it through the testing stage and survive any murder attempts from his bunkies. 

And he had to survive Jason, who was having a little, tiny bit too much fun with his new position of power. He would be the first to admit that his feelings on the matter were fucked up and that there was just something about having this kind of power over Dick that was intoxicating 

Jason had found watching him run the course until he was pink, panting and sweating with exhaustion had been one hell of a trip, it had even made him a little hard under his fatigues. The way Dick had refused to back down, even at end when Jason had to put a stop to the game for the sake of the mission - that had really done it for him too. If he wasn’t so worried about Dick getting stabbed to death in his sleep or losing his mind to fear toxin, he would say that this would be fun. For him at least. 

Probably for Dick too, despite the pain, and occasional humiliation – or perhaps because of it; Dick did love a challenge almost as much as he loved knocking heads together, which was quite a lot in Jason’s experience.

But the mission was a serious one, for all that, and he had to keep a cool head. The fact Bruce had asked him to do this almost politely, spoke volumes - well, polite for Bruce who preferred to demand of his little soldiers. More to the point, Bruce knew that if Jason had to do what needed to be done to protect himself, or the mission, he would do it. So he must have needed the help real bad. Jason was pretty sure that his willingness to kill was one of the reasons he was on point and not Dick or the boss-man himself - this mission couldn’t fail. 

Or he might be projecting. He did that sometimes when Bruce was too nice. 

Or _maybe_ that was just what he was telling himself as he murdered the competition with impunity and allowed the Doc to experiment on the men and women he had trained. They were all despicable people and he had no issue with their deaths, but watching them suffering first was getting harder to stand. He was findingthat blocking it out was getting harder too. So was resisting the urge to stab the good doctor in one of her deceptively warm looking brown eyes. In his opinion her dispassion over the deaths was scarier than Ivonavich’s enjoyment. 

Things were hard enough without the double Dick situation - that would be the one where semi-torturing Dick by making him do push-ups in the mud or running him until he was as close to dropping as Jason had ever seen after exercise, was doing things to Jason’s dick. Or perhaps it was unfair to blame his penis for being unruly, when the problem was clearly in his brain. 

But goddamn, watching the Golden Boy and his impressive, upper body strength struggle to lift his torso out of the dirt after doing more press ups than could possibly be heathy, was inexplicably too hot to handle. 

So, for the sake of his sanity, they needed to get this wrapped up sooner, rather than later. Because he had a knack for sensing when the universe was getting ready to do a big dump on his face, and he was getting that tingly feeling of impending shit flinging doom. 

“So, ...Sir,” Dick said, his lips hidden by his bent body as he heaved in breaths after his morning run/punishment. “How long is this going to go on? I haven’t managed to find anything out because all my spare time’s spent running and jumping like a show pony.” 

Out in the yard they were free from eavesdroppers - but not necessarily from lip readers, so Jason rubbed at his mouth, covering his words from any watching eyes. “You rein in the attitude and I wouldn’t have to make you do it, would I? And you’re here to assist in wrapping up the mission - I have most of the info we need.” 

Working with Dick was always so aggravating, even without the surprise addition of getting hot and bothered by bossing him around, and yeah, making him work like a show pony. Ha.

But why couldn’t it have been Tiny Tim; computer nerd - yes he was also annoying, but not like this. Not in a way that made Jason want to fuck as well as kill him. And to be fair he had only tried to actually kill Tim the once, the other times were just proving a point. Dick however, he had intended to actually take out on a number of occasions, but then let himself down when it came to it. He liked to tell himself it was because Dickhead had a pretty face and big, blue puppy dog eyes, but deep down he knew that wasn’t it, not really. Especially as Dick had been masked up and doing his level best to kick a hole in his head at the time. 

“You’re doing this for what? For fun, then?” Dick muttered, and Jason had to turn his grin into a yawn. 

“Yeah pretty much - that and you keep challenging my authority - I can’t let you get away with that you jackass, not and keep my position.” 

Dick huffed what might have been a laugh - it was hard to tell, what with the way he was sucking in breath. “Can’t help it, I think it’s a compulsive reaction against control freaks.” he was definitely sniggering under the heavy inhales. 

“Takes one to know one, Dickface.” They were more alike than not in that regard. The only difference was, Jason refused Bruce and walked away when the man was being an fool- most of the time anyway, whereas Dick argued and resisted and fought, but did what he was told- perhaps not in the way it was asked, and with very little good grace, but he did it. Stupid, devoted assbucket. 

“What do I need to know?” Dick asked, still staring at the muddy grass underfoot like it contained the answers to the universe.

“Just keep an eye on your bunkies – they’re going to be after you.” 

“Yeah, I got that one on my own, shockingly. I mean about the mission.”

We need to find where they are keeping crane, destroy all the product, and all the plans, everything. We need to make sure the doctor is taken in alive. This op is vast - we have to figure out a way to do it at once. And we’ve got about a week to do it in.” 

“What happens in a week?” 

“They’ll start the first ‘gas test’ probably won’t kill you - but you’re not immune to this strain. The Dr has done things to it. Trust me, you don’t want to get a face full.” 

Dick rolled his eyes, it made him look demented. “I’m sure I don’t. Okay, a week. The Doc has me in for a chat tomorrow - that likely to be good or bad?” 

Jason cast his eyes over the rough field, bleak in the morning light. Honestly? He wasn’t sure - she had taken him aside, when he had been in Dick’s position. Had questioned and probed him, flirted with him, to a small extent - he had thought about responding to that, weighed the pros and cons, and decided to play oblivious. Could be she was eyeing up Dick for a position of power and was going to try the same thing on him. But with the attitude he had been giving off, that was doubtful. Maybe she was looking for someone to warm her bed. Out of the recruits, Dick would be the obvious choice. The thought annoyed him. 

“Don’t know,” he answered at last. “But you might want to work one your meditation - just in case she gasses your dumb ass early.”

“Swell,” Dick straitened from his hunched over position, and stretched, moving his torso from side to side, and bending back, like a sleepy cat. His cheeks were pink, and sweat still shone on his face and soaked his t-shirt. He smelt like he had run a marathon before breakfast, and somehow Jason wasn’t finding that the least bit unpleasant. 

Kelner and the others arrived, while Jason was berating himself for his ridiculous crush –no, not a crush, that implied some level of feeling other than lust, however superficial. And what Jason was experiencing was definitely only lust. Perhaps brought about by the remnants of a teenage attraction with a side of hero worship and an unexpectedly hot power game. That was all. 

“Sir,” Kelner said, by way of greeting, standing straight and to attention, with the sun gleaming off his close cropped blond hair. 

At least some of them could behave properly. Jason nodded to him, his brain still a little tangled. “Anyone beats Gresinka’s time, gets a perk,” he offered gesturing to the obstacle course. He was hopeful that would get them out of his hair for a while, just to give him time to regain his equilibrium. Kelner looked eager, Lane looked tired even at the thought of running it again

. “What about if I beat my own time?” Dick said, bouncing on his toes, like an over eager child.

“You don’t have to run another three time because of your inability to follow the simplest of rules.” 

“Not really a perk is it?” 

He must be enjoying it as much as Jason for some whacked out reason, that was the only explanation . “So now you get nothing,” Jason said, slowly, like he was talking to a child. 

Dick pouted, a little moue of the lips. Then he looked resigned, “Sir,” he drawled, his voice somehow dripping with insubordination, while his face remained impassive. “Permission to use the head first?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Please, sir?” 

“No. Ask again and you’ll run the course until you piss yourself.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed, and he flushed slightly but he said nothing, clearly knowing that Jason would make him do just that. Jason loved that look the best. Seething, challenging, resentful about having to back down for the sake of the mission. All undercut with a glorious dash of humiliation. 

Not letting him take a piss was perhaps the lowest Jason had gone so far,in the four very long days since Dick ‘I can’t keep my mouth shut to save my skin’ Grayson had joined him in hell. But he suspected he could go lower with embarrassing ease.


	4. Chapter 4

Vivian sat across her desk and observed Gresinka as he waited for her to speak. He was fidgeting, twitching his leg slightly and moving his fingers like he was thinking about playing a flute or typing. It didn’t appear due to any anxiety or discomfort however, it seemed he just wanted to be moving. His eyes flicked around the room, as his fingers fiddled with a hole ripped in the knee of his pants. 

She looked at him objectively: He was very attractive, tanned skin, sharp hazel eyes, a very well put together face. Not really her body type, but she could see the appeal in his tightly corded muscles and limber frame. 

“Foxx works you hard,” she said by way of an opening.

Gresinka grinned at her. “He’s a bastard,” he said, lightly.

Vivian nodded. “He takes great delight in making you work twice as much as the rest of the troops.” 

Gresinka leaned back in his chair with a languid movement. “That’s true. Are you my shrink? because I gotta say, I can talk for hours, but I don’t promise it will make much difference to my state of mind.”

Vivian snorted delicately. “I’m not a shrink, as well you know. I am merely interested in what you think about it. An honest opinion would be appreciated.” She added, bluntly.

He shrugged, kicked a leg over the arm of his chair and glanced at the celling in thought. “Well, I challenge his authority, unlike those other ass-lickers.” he kicked his other leg up and jiggled his foot. “And _they_ don’t like me because I’m better than them, hotter than them and smarter than them. That honest enough for you?”

“Well that’s one opinion I suppose.” A narcissistic one to be sure, but also possibly true. 

“Why are you so interested?” He asked, curiously.

“Why do you think?” She countered

He smirked. “Are you _sure_ you're not my shrink?” 

Vivian narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, she could see why this one was driving Foxx up the wall. She still didn’t think she was wrong, however.

He held up a hand as though her displeasure was a physical threat to him. “Okay! I’ll play; it’s because there is something you want, and you think I can help you get it.” He lifted a shoulder in a slow, lethargic motion. “I don’t know what it is, though.”

“I might have a proposition for you, based entirely on my own hypothesis, of course.” She paused and poked through her words to find the correct phrasing. “Foxx is a bright and brilliant young man, he’s very good at his job. A little too good.”

“You want me to kill him?” Gresinka cut in, before she could elaborate. “I could.” He didn’t sound eager or reluctant, just stating a fact. 

“I don’t doubt it, but no, I would like him to be on my side, _only_ my side, but his agreement is is not enough. He has gained his position on his own, he doesn't really need my help to progress. And for a cold blooded killer, the man is squeaky clean.”

“I see. You want leverage.”

Right to the point. It might not have just been ego when he said he was smart. But as irreverent as he was, she sensed that he was a surviver, like a cockroach but with less in the way of morals– he would be willing to use and be used to get where he wanted to go. That would be invaluable- at least while they were both helpful to each other – there may come a time when she would need to have him put down before he did the same to her. But for now, he was potentially perfect. 

“Yes,” She offered “He has never shown any interest in the other recruits, so I have never had this opportunity before.”

“You think making me run like roadrunner on crack is ‘interest’?” He looked sceptical, perhaps a little perplexed. 

“ He watches you all the time, especially when you're at your lowest. He enjoys it.”

Another shoulder shrug. “So, he’s a sadist and I annoy him.”

“It’s only you he’s behaved like this with. You spark something in him.” Vivian said, letting her lips curl in the smallest of smiles.

“Hatred?”

“Possibly. But also, I think, the reverse.” 

“Huh?” He blinked his big eyes at her in apparent confusion.

“I think he is attracted to you, either consciously or not.” Now it was her turn to shrug, her shoulders rolling slightly under her black silk blouse.

Gresinka’s full mouth made a little ‘o’ shape, it clearly wasn’t something he had considered. That might mean he wasn’t attracted to men, and hadn’t picked up the signs, or it might mean he had been concentrating so hard on the little power game they had been playing, the reason for it hadn’t filtered through. Or she could be wrong - but she doubted it. 

"I know that I am right,” she said. Trying to prompt him towards a clearer reaction. It didn’t seem to work, and he just stared at her with a slightly poleaxed expression. 

Then he shook himself like a wet dog. “Really?" he said at last, "So you want me to… what, seduce him?"

“In a word? Yes. You gain a hold on him, and I will help you up the ladder – make sure you survive any attempts at back stabbing from the group. Unless you are repulsed by the idea?”

He cocked his head, like a little bird. “Nah,” he drawled after a moment of contemplation. “I’m not adverse to the idea – I’ve only got so many tools in my box, I’m not above using sex. But I gotta say,I’m a little concerned he might just kill me, if you're wrong.” He tapped at his plush lower lip, brow furrowed “Also, possibly if you're right and he’s in denial.”

She had him, she was sure. “He won’t. I’m sure he just needs a little… nudge.”

“I’m sure I can provide that. And them some.” He grinned, eyes bright and eager. "Nudging is a thing i'm good at."

  
“I’m sure you can.” Vivian l_oved_ working with sociopaths; no morals or qualms to get in the way of her plans. She felt sure Gresinka was going to be interesting to work with. There was something mercurial and dangerous about him that she approved of. And she did so hate being bored.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Homophobia, homophobic language

Kelner watched Gresinka’s quick fingers working through the components in the computer he had just partially dismantled. It seemed the boy was clever, as well as irreverent. He and Gregor appeared to be the only two who had any sort of confidence in finding and disarming the bomb in the room with them. 

Gersinka had been excited by this task, as he seemed to be with all of them, even the ones Foxx made him truly suffer through. He had bounced on his toes and said, “Sounds like an escape room! I love those!” 

Foxx had looked at him like he was a particularly aggravating insect. “If you fuck this one up, you get a face full of fear gas. People better than you have died here.”

Gresinka had nodded, still eager. “Better not fuck it up then... _ Sir. _ ” 

The way he had said ‘sir’ had been downright provocative; the word almost purred, like from some low budget porn movie. Foxx looked at him askance, his brow furrowing a little. 

Lane and Pirez looked at him like he had lost his goddamn mind. Foxx seemed to assume it was just him being a crazy little shit and shook it off. If it had been Kelner he had spoken to like that, he would have given him a beating he wouldn’t wake up from. Perhaps Foxx was getting soft on him, or was just tired of the constant reprimands.

They had passed through the many tricks and traps in the room quickly - as each had different skill sets, they had reluctantly worked together. Gresinka and Gregor seemed to have a match in ability when it came to this sort of thing; figuring out puzzles and patterns until they had found the bomb. Now they hunched together, examining and re-examining all the wires contained within the casing of the computer. Gresinka liked to touch the wires, like it gave him some extra tactile sense of what was going on in the messy bundle. Gregor just looked at them appraisingly, and kept his fingers where they were. 

“Thoughts, Greg?” Gresinka asked, his lightly accented voice tight with something - concentration or excitement, maybe. It wasn’t fear though; the kid seemed to have been born without it. “It looks like an old-school type of signature, with the mechanism tucked so far under you risk blowing yourself sky high just trying to get a look at it. But there’s something doesn’t sit right with me about that assessment. What do you think?”

Gregor grunted. A bead of sweat rolled down his bald head as he scrunched his ugly face up a bit. “I agree. I feel it is too simple - or, perhaps, not simple enough.”

They seemed to be taking their time - time they didn’t have. “I hate to break into this fascinating dialog, but there’s only two minutes left on the clock,” Kelner pointed out, after another ten seconds ticked by, with the two men just staring at wires. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin. 

“Alright, grandma - we’re doing our best,” Gresinka muttered. Kelner growled and stepped towards him, but Pirez held him back. 

“None of us can do this. Hit him later.” Pirez said, diplomatically. 

He was right, but Kelner wanted nothing more than to break Gresinka’s pretty face and he growled in frustration. 

“If it was me setting this up,“ Lane said, as more seconds ticked by, “I would have just blown us all to hell by now.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Gresinka asked, a small smile twitching his lips. “Or, more to the point, the question is what would  _ Foxx _ do? “ He stroked his fingers across the wires again, making Lane wince – one accidental tug and they were fucked. “You know what Foxx would do?” Gresinka asked, suddenly. “He’d make a secondary device. Something simple, to blow us up while we're distracted with this one.” He whipped out his screwdriver and began opening the other end of the computer.

He was quick, but Kelner could still feel the sweat building on his brow. He could practically feel the seconds trickling away, and he wondered what the gas would be like, whether they would survive with their sanity intact.

Gresinka had the back off, revealing another mess of wires and circuits. Weirdly, he chortled under his breath. “Cunning by name and nature,” he muttered, pulling a bunch of wires forward so he could see further into the cavity. He blew hair out of his eyes and rattled off something to Gregor in a language that might have been Russian. 

Gregor nodded, his own thick fingers carefully feeling the wires in his open end of the computers shell. 

Ready?” Gresinka said, Gregor nodded. “Now!” They both pulled their wires, and time seemed to slow, before the little digital countdown stopped.

Lane blew out a breath and Kelner scrubbed a hand through his hair. Pirez clapped Gresinka on the back, “Good work,” he said, simply. Gresinka grinned at the praise like a puppy being given a scrap from the table.

Kelner frowned. It  _ had _ been good work, but he didn’t have to like it. Both Pirez and Gregor seemed to be leaning towards accepting Gresinka, and that put him and Lane at a disadvantage.

Nope, he didn’t like it one bit. 

Their reward was fresh fruit enjoyed in the sun. Wasn’t much of a perk, but the work was grinding and relentless and it felt good to have a break. Foxx joined them, crunching on an apple and listening to Pirez giving a rundown of how it had gone, despite the fact Foxx must have been watching.

Foxx looked a little bored , but his eyes were straying towards Gresinka, who was eating a ripe peach with messy abandon. Juice dribbled down his chin and coated his fingers in sticky nectar. Kelner frowned again; the way Gresinka was sitting was even more slovenly than usual, one arm taking his weight on the innocuous and out-of-place picnic table where they sat, hips pushed forward slightly, and one booted foot resting across the other knee. Somehow, he was making the position look obscene. Maybe it was the pleased humming noise he was making as he ate, eyes closed in pleasure.

Kelner couldn’t fathom what the freak thought he was doing - not until after Gresinka had thrown the stone into the grass, and Kelner saw the look in Foxx’s eyes as Gresinka started licking the juice from his fingers. He didn’t stop there, either, he went so far as to stick a finger in his mouth and suck it clean, slowly, with half lidded eyes.

Foxx was watching him hungrily, and Kelner felt a twist of disgust in his belly.  _ So that’s how it was? _ Any respect he had for Foxx vanished in a snarl of dislike and anger, and he kicked out at Gresinka without even thinking.

The blow caught him by surprise, he had been so intent on… what he had been doing. “OW!” He yelped, holding his hip and looking offended.

Foxx stood quickly, his face a little pink, eyes flickering to Kelner’s face and back to Gresinka, who was pouting and rubbing at his bruise.

“Enough,” Foxx said. “You want to kick each other? Fine. Today we can spar.”

They hadn’t done this yet, spar with one another and a thrill went up Kelner’s spine.  _ Now _ they would really see who was top dog, and who was just a bitch in heat. 

“I want Gresinka,” he said, as they stepped up to the ring, which was no more than a collection of ropes across a patch of grass. 

“So do I,” Lane said, scowling. He had been as upset by that little display as Kelner had. That shit would never have stood in the army.

“Steady on, boys,” Gresinka grinned at them. “There’s enough of me to go around, isn’t that right, Foxx?”

Foxx backhanded him hard enough to make him sprawl, but Gresinka just gave a breathless laugh as he licked blood from his mouth. 

“You want both at once?” Foxx said, coolly. “Fine, take them both. You win, I won’t punish you for that insubordination; you lose and you’re out.”

“High stakes,” Gresinka said as he rose to his feet. “What about them,” he jerked his thumb, towards Kelner and Lane. “What do they get if they win or lose?”

“If they win, they get rid of you. If they lose, you stay.”

Gresinka sucked at his teeth, curling his mouth into a smirk as he did so. “Alright, let’s dance.”

Lane seemed sure that Gresinka would be easy meat, simple to take down, but Kelner wasn’t so sure; there was a confidence and grace in his body and movement that signalled at training,  _ good _ training. Kelner didn’t think it would be as easy as all that. 

Gresinka walked into the ring, ducking under the ropes. He didn’t swagger or drag his feet, just looked like he was about to do nothing more than take a walk. Once in the centre, he cocked his hip and smiled salaciously. “Shall we?”

“I’m going to end you, you cock-sucking little fag,” Lane said, in a low tone. No need to piss Foxx off further, not yet. 

Gresinka, however, did not lower his voice. “That’s me, always a queer and present danger!” He swept a deep, and mocking bow.

From the side-lines, Foxx snorted loud enough to be heard - he looked amused and like he was trying not to show it. 

Lane snarled and rushed forward, but Gresinka flowed out of the way of his fist as smooth as water over a rock. He sidestepped the follow up kick with embarrassing ease, then he took hold of Lane’s arm and, using his own momentum, spun him around before shifting his feet to toss him like he was nothing more than a rag.

Then he kicked him in the side head and Lane went down, and stayed down. 

“Oh, well that was simple,” Gresinka said. He looked disappointed. 

Kelner hadn’t even moved. Gresinka crooked a finger at him. Kelner was a practised and seasoned fighter, well studied in Krav Maga, Akido and some fierce, no-holds-barred cage fighting, but he had a feeling he was going to be outclassed almost as much as Lane had been. Still he stepped forward; he would rather die than back down.

Gresinka stood there and did nothing, just looked at him like he was the cat and Kelner was the mouse, despite the fact Kelner had almost a full head in height and twice the breadth of shoulder. 

They watched each other for a moment, and Kelner saw Foxx was smirking; he  _ knew _ Gresinka had the edge, had known from the start. This wasn’t punishment for Gresinka, it was punishment for  _ him _ , for kicking his little boy-toy. The thought infuriated him and in spite of his reservations, he charged,

Gresinka avoided his blow, and the next, but Kelner managed to deflect his return hits, they weren’t at full force – it was like he was just testing the waters, seeing how well Kelner could attack and defend. Kelner blocked another series of hits and spun as he tried to get under his opponents guard. It almost worked, and then Gresinka pivoted like a fucking ballet dancer and his heal caught Kelner on the chin.

He realised he was flat on his back, and he blinked spots from his vision. He tried to get up, to struggle to his regain his feet and dignity, but then Foxx was there, all but stepping over him. “Get out. Let me show you how it’s done.” 

Embarrassed and angry, Kelner wobbled to his feet and staggered to join the others. At least Lane looked just as furious as he felt but Gregor looked as curious as his craggy face ever did. Pirez was leaning forward eagerly, and he seemed to be looking forward to this farce. Kelner wasn’t even sure who he wanted to win; it was too much to hope that they would both somehow kill each other.

Foxx and Gresinka were eyeing each other in the ring, Kelner found himself assessing in kind - he had never seen Foxx fight, but he must be good to have made it as far as he had. He was tall and built, with broad shoulders and there was a lot of muscle on him, a lot of power. But Gresinka was, as he had just learnt, extremely quick and could kick like a mule.

There was no formal start, the fight just began. Foxx worked offensively, but gently, testing, making Gresinka move. Gresinka for his part weaved and dodged, as light as a feather.

T hen with as little warning as when they started, the fight was on for real. Gresinka dropped to the ground, fast as a striking snake and hooked Foxx’s foot out from under him. Beside Kelner, Lane hissed, and Kelner felt himself do the same, but Foxx barely touched the floor. He used his momentum to roll, and flip back to his feet, his own boot lashing out in a low kick that made his opponent abandon his own move and jerk to the side. Foxx followed with a series of blows that had they landed would have knocked Gresinka senseless. 

Forgetting himself, Kelner leaned forward, riveted. It really was a dance, each following their own beat, coming together and moving apart. He could see how they differed; Foxx was graceful in his own right, powerful, a tank of a man, whereas Gresinka was lighter on his feet, dodging strikes as often as countering them. They appeared evenly matched. 

“Ten dollars on Gresinka,” Pirez said, suddenly.

Lane snorted, “Twenty on Foxx,” He spat on the ground, showing what he thought about betting on Gresinka.

Kelner said nothing. He didn’t want to bet on Gresinka, but equally, he didn’t want to bet on a losing horse, and he wasn’t convinced Foxx had the edge.

The battle went on. Since his youth, Kelner had studied the great fighters - masters of their craft, like any boy a little in love with violence. He had studied footage of assassins, warlords and capes. Both the men in the ring had echoes and shadows of those fighters, but also something of their own. 

I t wasn’t until they had been battling for ten long minutes, an age in a fight as vigorous as this one, that he recognised a specific move from Gresinka. It was an offensive move, but one not used for killing - instead it was one you used if you wanted to take your pray alive and unharmed. He slammed in with a shoulder, and virtually rolled across Foxx’s back, grabbing an arm and using the force of his own body to twist them both sideways before slamming Foxx into the floor. Foxx lay stunned for a fraction of a second before he dodged the follow up with surprising agility considering how hard he had hit the dirt. Then he lashed out, killing blows, from hands and feet and came at his opponent - Gresinka had been backed almost to the edge of the ring and there was nowhere for him to go. Lane looked smug, already smelling victory.

Then Gresinka launched himself into the air like he was a damn bird, spinning like a sycamore seed and slamming down on Foxx’s back, using his legs to force him down again. 

Kelner blinked, the fight fading into the background as he dredged up old memories of grainy footage. He knew now why Gresinka was as good as he was, knew who had trained him. He shivered.

When Kelner came back to the fight, Foxx had somehow gained the advantage and Gresinka was bleeding from a gash above his eye, blood dripping from a split lip. Foxx had also sustained some wounds, though nothing serious. It suddenly occurred to Kelner that they were both holding back from inflicting serious injury. Foxx perhaps because he wanted to fuck Gresinka - that much had been obvious earlier - but Kelner no longer thought Gresinka wanted to get their handler into bed on a whim. He was playing the long game, but why and for who? 

They fought on, the moves becoming more and more underhanded and vicious. They were getting closer and closer to each other, like the space they fought in was closing in on them, until finally they both went down in a jumble of limbs. Kelner, Lane and the rest surged forward to see who would come out on top. The two men struggled and bucked and even  _ bit _ , in Gresinka’s case, but eventually Foxx managed to use his bulk to pin Gresinka to the floor. They were both breathing heavily, and sweat was dripping down Foxx’s chin and onto Gresinka’s upturned face. He didn’t seem to mind, and he gave an exhausted grin, rapping the ground with a bruised knuckle. “I yield,” he said. He didn’t look very beaten, despite his position and obvious exhaustion, but then, if Kelner was right about his training, he had probably enjoyed every moment of that battle. And he would not be so easy to overcome if he were playing the game for real.

Beating him in a fight was unlikely to work - they were going to have to find another way. 


	6. Chapter 6

As he twisted and turned in his bed, Jason finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to sleep. He had good quarters, being an officer, but the room was still sparse and the sheets a little worn. His mind was in turmoil; had Dick been flirting with him? Or was he always like that? Jason didn’t think he had ever seen him behave so provocatively before, not even as a joke. Dick was a tactile guy, with a very ropy idea of personal boundaries – or perhaps that wasn’t quite fair; he always respected Jason’s personal space, when they weren’t trying to pummel each other, but seemed to have very few boundaries himself and welcomed physical content from his loved ones – whether they loved him back or not. But that hadn’t been hugs, hair ruffles or casual touching; that had been flirting, overt, over the top flirting.

The fight had been exhilarating, even if Dick had capitulated before he had to for the sake of Jason keeping face. It felt like the true outcome could have gone either way if they had seen it through to the end. It had been so much fun that he had almost forgotten the humiliation of his men seeing the naked hunger in his face, as he watched Dick. He squirmed uncomfortably; that cat was well and truly out the fucking bag now, and unless they were very enlightened for military men, he was going to struggle to win back their respect. If Dick hadn’t been there he would have given them a beat down – or just up and killed one of them to keep the rest in line. But Dick was there, source of all his fucking problems.

What  _ had _ Dick been playing at? Surely he knew he was undermining the both of them. Jason felt his breathing hitch as he remembered the obscene way Dick had sucked his fingers, peach juice on his chin. 

Damn it, no  _ way _ he was getting any sleep tonight. He sat up and glanced at his watch. It was 3am, still a few hours until dawn. He couldn’t face another day of wondering what the fuck Dick was up too. He was going to have to speak to him, and there was no time like the present.

He dressed quickly and ghosted down the halls, out into the area where the recruit’s huts lay. Although he avoided what cameras he could, he knew that he would be seen. He had already concocted a story to drop casually into conversation tomorrow – if he couldn’t hide, he would just make sure people  _ knew _ he wasn’t hiding.

The hut was full of the robust snores of exhausted men, the sound more than covering any noise his boots made. Dick was sleeping on his back, one arm above his head, the other flung out to the side like he was doing a pirouette in his sleep. Stupid man. His bruises and split lip somehow accentuated the fine bones of his annoying, perfect face. His mouth was open, and although his was not one of the grunting cacophony of dissonant snores, he was definitely emitting some sort of low grumble. More Like a backing singer than one of the band.

Waking him was going to be tricky – he didn’t want to touch him, as the response would no doubt be violent and possibly noisy, and if they could avoid being caught in a compromising position by the men, that would be  _ great _ . Still, other than calling his name he didn’t have much choice. He approached Dick’s out-flung hand, his fingers curled up towards his palm. There was something so vulnerable looking about that position, it made Jason’s stomach do a slow flip. Reaching out, he squeezed the fingers quickly, and watched as Dick’s eyes flew open, all his muscles tensing for a fight. He zeroed in on Jason, sleep falling away from his gaze in the blink of an eye.

“We need to talk,” Jason mouthed.

Dick lifted a finger to his eye like he was just going to rub it, but the meaning was clear we’re being watched

Jason nodded and jerked his head towards the door. Dick slid out of bed and padded after him still barefoot, shivering as the cool night air hit him.

“You got a place?” He whispered.

“Yeah. No ears, possible eyes through.” So lips had to be covered before they said anything- that would be doable.

He led Dick through the garden, towards the obstacle course. Dick grinned, a slash of white in the dark. “Going to make me run it blind now, sir?”

“Shut up,” Jason growled. He couldn’t help wondering what the fuck he thought he was doing. While he had to get on the same page as Dick, for his own mental health, he also had no idea what he was going to say when he got there. The jackass always tied him in knots, usually without meaning to – but this was intolerable.

He took them to his chosen spot, the thick pillar supporting the climbing wall. There were no bugs here, but there were cameras on the course, so he crowded Dick up against it, in the shadows. Dick let him, looking up at him expectantly. But he couldn’t form the words properly.

Apparently board of waiting, Dick grinned again. “They’re going to think we're out here for a secret tryst!”

“And that’s the problem, Dickhead. What the hell?” Jason growled, apparently he didn’t need any finesse to broach the subject.

Dick slung an arm around his neck and leaned in, face down against his chest. Jason shivered despite himself. “Exactly that,” Dick said, lips hidden by the position. “Dr Viv wants me to seduce you.”

“She  _ what _ ? _Why_?” Jason was flummoxed. He had expected this was some hare-brained plot from  _ Dick _ , not their damn target.

“You’re too clean – not deviant enough. She wants something to hold you with, or she’s going to get rid of you and put someone else in charge. Probably Kelner or Lane, if they pass the testing.”

While one part of his brain assessed the threat and likelihood of his replacement, the rest of it was plain stuck on  _ Why _ ? “But why would she think that would work? The seducing I mean?”

“She thinks your hard-on for making me run around like an agility dog means you want to fuck me.”

Awkward. Very awkward. “That’s dumb,” Jason said, he didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself.

Dick chuckled, and shrugged. “Gives a new meaning to the word fly boy!”

“That’s fly  _ ball _ , you fucking dumbass.” Dick did that kind of thing on purpose; mix up a word or phrase to make it work for him – it was disarming, made him look silly when he was anything but. The man was a menace.

Dick chortled again, amused at his own poor joke. Then he sobered a bit. “The problem is, if we don’t do it, I think she’s going to take action against us. I mean, we don’t have to do it for real, of course, but we might need to... you know,” he flapped a hand a little when Jason didn’t help him out any. “We might have to fake it.”

“We’re on all the cameras, they’re going to expect us to fuck out here!” Jason said, his voice close to a whine. This was horrible and humiliating.

Dick shifted against him – barefoot and in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts he must have been cold. “We could fake a hand-job?” he said, raising his head so he could see Jason’s face. Jason wished he hadn’t.

“They’re going to expect more than a hand-job - we’re grown men, not school boys with their first crush!”

Dick made a soothing gesture. “We could maybe go to your room and fake it, under the covers?”

That would be unacceptable, and Jason thought frantically for any other option – in that close proximity while ‘faking it,’ Dick would be able to feel exactly how little faking there actually was.

He wasn’t sure what was on his face – some unholy combination of lust, fear, humiliation and anger probably. But whatever it was, Dick saw through it.

Dick’s mouth fell open a little and his eyes widened “Oh.  _ Oh _ ,” he said, letting the whole conversation and confession happen in those two syllables.

Jason growled at him, and actually considered punching him and running away. Of all the humiliating awful  _ everything _ .

Dick’s expression had changed, he was eyeing Jason slightly sideways, from under his lashes. “Well, if that’s the way things stand,” he licked his lips a little nervously, “I wouldn’t be wholly averse to  _ not _ faking it, if that’s something you would be interested in?”

What. “ _ What _ ?” Jason blurted, he couldn’t really be suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting.

“You know, doing it for real,” Dick said, and it looked like he was flushing. “If you wanted, I mean. I don’t know if that sort of thing is your jam, I’m something of a serial monogamist, I know, but I have a high sex drive and so when I’m single I have some good friends that I trust, that I sometimes sleep with…”

He was babbling. Jason wasn’t the only one a bit worked up at this development – that was remarkably satisfying.

Dick was still going, seemingly without being able to stop. “I mean, there’s Roy – although we usually only fuck when we’re mad at each other, which is often, I admit. And Kory, now enough water’s flowed under that bridge to not make it awkward, and you know, since they got together, it’s been a sort of Roy-Kory sandwich, which has been very distracting, and- “

“Shut up, Dick. Just stop talking.” A Roy and Kory sandwich? The visual was at once both disturbing and ball achingly hot.

Dick’s eyes widened again, and he patted Jason’s chest with one hand. “Of course if you don’t want to that’s fine – we can play it off, like we could pretend to fight and fall out, you can be really in the closet and-“

Jason shut him up by sliding a thigh between his legs, forcing him onto his toes and making him gasp. “Stop. Talking,” he said, “Are you seriously asking me if I’m going to turn down the chance to have sex with you?  _ Really _ ?” His voice came out a little higher pitched than he intended.

“Of course!” Dick squeaked, that was also satisfying, the squeak. Sometimes it felt like Dick kept his cool a little too much.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Dickhead.” Jason pushed up against him and felt Dick’s breath catch, his mouth falling open slightly.

Dick wet his lips, and Jason’s eyes followed his tongue as it poked out. “So I guess a sensible question, is what are the rules? We go to your room and they’ll be watching.”

“I’m trying to forget that part,” Jason grumbled. Dick smirked, he was probably looking forward to it, the show off.

“You’ll have to fuck me – that’s how it would be with Foxx, first time anyway. Got to be a ‘dominant macho army man.’” He made air quotes with his fingers.

Jason swallowed down the groan at the image that produced in his head. He had to stay in control, and not come in his pants like the gangly teenager he had been, who had whacked-off to just that image. “So”, he said, when he had his voice under control. “Do you have any hard lines? Anything you’re not cool with?”

“I’m cool with it being rough, if that’s what you mean?” Dick said, hiding his face again, to Jason’s relief. “But only if you talk to me, if… I want to either see you or hear you, to keep me in the moment.”

“How do you mean?” Jason asked cautiously.

“So I know it’s you, if my brain wanders away for a bit, so I know I’m safe.”

“Is that likely? Does your ‘brain wander away’ often when you have sex?”

“It’s been known to happen, especially with new partners.”

Jason furrowed his brow, thinking through it; Why? Why would that happen? He wanted to ask, but couldn’t. He had his own issues with control when it came to sex, and except for one or two trusted partners, he usually avoided it. He had enough going on without having to deal with romantic entanglements anyway. But fucking Dick? That was a wet dream come to life and he wasn’t going to say no.

“What about you?” Dick asked

Jason shrugged. “Nothing that’s likely to come up.” Not yet anyway.

“So,” Dick left the word hanging. He was looking up at him again, through his lashes, hungry, and a little wicked.

So. Jason smirked, letting his own desire show fully on his face, before tipping Dick’s head up a little further and leaning in for a kiss. Dick grunted in surprise - perhaps he had thought it was just going to be fucking, no making out – but his mouth opened eagerly under Jason’s, and Jason found himself almost overwhelmed as Dick struggled to take control. So that’s how it was going to go was it? He smirked against Dick’s mouth got a hand around his throat and gently pressed, not to cut off his air but just enough to show his intentions. Dick hummed, Jason could feel the vibrations from his throat in his palm. 

This was going to work out well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Homophobia, voyeurism, porn

Vivian kept her expression impassive as she watched the sneer on Kellner’s face twist into something darker. Internally, she was pleased; what Kellner had said confirmed her theory about Foxx – his interest in Gresinka  _ was  _ sexual. Vivian liked being right about things at least as much as she liked being in control, and Kellner’s revelation regarding the situation was going cause an interesting shift in the group dynamic – up to this point, Kellner had respected Foxx, despite his youth, but now, that was shattered; homophobic to his core, just the thought of it seemed to be making his face contort with disgust. A very silly thing to get upset about.

“He’s not fit to lead,” Keller said again.

Vivian leaned back. “Who he takes to his bed is hardly of interest to us,” she lied. “But what he does after? That will tell just how fit he is.” She shrugged a shoulder. “It could make or break him.” She had enough dirt on Kellner, he would be easy to manipulate but not half as satisfying as Foxx was going to be, if things panned out the way she hoped.

Vivian tapped a finger to her lips, watching as Kellner zeroed in on the movement, his eyes lingering on her mouth. She had thought she would be too old for his tastes, as his file indicated he liked girls to be barely into double digits, but perhaps his masculinity was in need of a balm after his brush with the nasty homosexuals.

“And Gresinka?” she asked. Surprisingly, he looked suddenly wary. That was new.

“He’s crazy. And dangerous.”

“Isn’t that sort of the point? You’re all dangerous.”

“Different kind of dangers. I don’t trust his motives, or his loyalty.”

“Well, I don’t trust his loyalty either – but I do trust that he will do what is in his best interest. For now at least.”

Kellner grimaced and Vivian gave him what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “I need them, for now, but if Foxx proves unruly I might consider promoting from the ranks. But not until I’m ready, understand?”

Kellner’s face took on an almost hopeful expression. He was an ambitious one, not as bright as Foxx, and more prone to emotional outbursts, but he could be useful, if played correctly.

Later, while heading for coffee, she met Ivanovitch in the corridor, his ugly face morose and just a little pissed. He sneered as he handed her a wad of cash. “Looks like you were right, damn it. Foxx is queer for the little Markovan shit.”

Vivian smiled, serene, and took the cash. “And how did you come to this conclusion?” She asked. 

“They were out by the course in the middle of the night. Went back to his room after. They were not quiet or particularly subtle - the asshole must have known he would be seen on the cameras, so they just didn’t bother to hide it.” He looked half disgusted and half reluctantly impressed.

“Well, I should go and review the footage. I may have another bet for you, after.”

“Rather you than me, Dr Vern.” Ivonavitch said with another grimace.

Vivian locked her door and set up the feed on her computer. She looked over the footage from outside first, before flicking to the camera she had in Foxx’s room. She sipped her coffee; this was a very good opportunity to observe her subjects, and likely to be fairly entertaining too. She rewound to the previous night and pressed play.

The door opened and Foxx practically threw Gresinka into the room, crowding him against the wall with a predatory expression on his bruised face. Gresinka pushed him away, but the look in his eyes was one of excitement, rather than fear or anger and the grin he shot towards Foxx, as he twisted out of his grasp, belonged to the devil. 

Foxx didn’t seem interested in playing the game, and caught him easily before slamming him into the wall again with enough force to knock the breath out of the other man. Perhaps wisely, Gresinka gave up struggling, and quite literally, climbed Foxx like a tree. Grinning, Foxx grabbed him under the ass and bit at his neck, just behind his ear. Gresinka’s head fell back against the fading paintwork as his legs flexed where they were wrapped around Foxx’s waist, and it wasn’t clear who was holding who in place as they moved against each other in sharp jerky movements.

Vivian tapped her lip again as she watched, letting a smile cross her face when Foxx tossed the smaller man on the bed like he weighed nothing and stood watching as Gresinka spread himself out on the covers. Gresinka smiled as he looked directly at the camera for a moment, letting her know he knew she would be watching, then with an undulating, graceful and sensuous movement he eased his shorts down and tossed them haphazardly aside.

Vivian couldn’t see Foxx’s face but the way he tore his own shirt off spoke volumes. Eyeing up his broad, scarred back she couldn’t help a pang of regret she had been unable to seduce him herself – he was exactly what she liked in a man, physically, but she suspected he might not have been as easy for her to control, as cold and dispassionate as she tended to be with her lovers. Gresinka was fiery and passionate - able to see what his partner wanted and then challenge him to come get it. She also had a feeling Foxx was going to become possessive of his conquest, now he had him, and she couldn’t abide that in a man. However, with Gresinka pulling his strings so effortlessly, she was fairly sure that possessiveness was going to put Foxx right where she wanted him.

Foxx was still watching as he toed off his boots, then he climbed onto the bed, straddling Gresinka’s hips and holding his wrists above his head with one big hand. Gresinka wiggled a bit, to test his hold, but it was just for show. He most certainly could have freed himself if he wanted to – their previous fight had shown off just how talented he was in that department. 

“You gonna take your pants off?” Gresinka asked, eyeing Foxx hungrily.

“You going to shut your mouth while we do this, or do I have to listen to you prattle?”

Gresinka grinned. “Plenty I could do with my mouth, I would think?” He suggested.

“Yeah, but I want you to shut it,” Foxx said, releasing him and flipping him onto his front with one, forceful movement. Gresinka let out a little grunt, and then chuckled. Even his laugh sounded slightly mad. She was suspected she was going to have to put this one down when he had finished being useful but for now he was perfect, spreading his legs under Foxx’s body, while the bigger man bit at his neck and shoulders and grabbed a handful of his ass. Although Gresinka wasn’t really her type, Vivian could very much appreciate his lean body and firm backside when Foxx gave it a slap hard enough to really hurt. Gresinka moaned like a whore, as Foxx smoothed a hand over the reddened skin although the effect was ruined by a slightly manic giggle that worked its way free when Foxx hit him again.

“Weirdo,” Foxx said, “You want this?” He bit down hard on Gresinka’s ass check, and the other man yelped like a scalded cat. “You  _ want _ this?” Apparently, despite the measured violence, consent was important to him. Interesting.

“Yeah,” Gresinka, said breathlessly, wiggling again like he couldn’t keep still for a moment.

“You gonna beg for it?”

Gresinka snorted and rolled over, one lean, muscled leg resting casually on Foxx’s shoulder, leaving him exposed. He didn’t look vulnerable though; he looked completely in control. “I think  _ you  _ should be the one begging,” he said, smirking, “because if you want me to, you might be waiting a long time. And that would be a waste.” He opened his arms, as if to say  _ a waste of all this! _

Again, Vivian wished she could see the expression on Foxx’s face as he watched his partner. He said nothing, but Gresinka smiled like he had won a prize at the fairground.

“Anyone ever told you you’re a jackass?” Foxx asked, at last, letting out what appeared to be a heartfelt sigh.

“Many, many people. Got lube?”

Foxx snorted a slightly strangled sounding laugh. “Ah, the language of love. Romance sure as shit ain’t dead is it?” His native Gotham accent suddenly sounded more pronounced. “Got lube.” He laughed again, shaking his head and sliding off the bed to head for his gear.

When Foxx turned away Gresinka looked… charmed. It was the most open and honest expression Vivian had seen on his face yet. It disappeared quickly, once Foxx was facing back to him, but it did make her wonder if this surprise two-way affection was going to make a difference in her plans.

“You want lube?” Foxx said as he chucked it at Gresinka with enough force it probably would have brained him if he hadn’t snatched it out of the air. “Best use it then. I’ll wait.”

Gresinka chuckled and did exactly that, using his fingers skilfully and writhing on the cheap bedspread like he was really enjoying himself - and perhaps he was; he certainly seemed to know what he was doing, and he wasn’t shy about it. Even Vivian was feeling a little hot under the collar watching him. Foxx was also watching, a flush creeping up his pale, lightly freckled back. His fingers were twitching, she could see them peeking around his biceps, where his arms crossed his chest. A defensive slightly anxious stance, she realised, which was very interesting. He really was a fascinating puzzle, and Vivian dearly wished she had the leisure to pick him apart to see how he worked. 

Gresinka eased his fingers out of himself and gave his cock a lazy tug. “Got condoms?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. He looked stupid, and weirdly adorable, like a cheeky little boy rather than a man who had just been fingering himself open on his superior officer’s bed.

Apparently that was the last straw for Foxx’s control and he strode forward, snatching back the lube and tugging Gresinka to his feet. “Don’t think you deserve a bed,” he growled and started hauling the other man towards the wooden desk. Gresinka seemed to see where that was going and twisted free, apparently without effort, and darted back to the bed to grab a pillow before Foxx could catch him.

“You think I’m going to let you fuck me over that without a cushion for my junk, you are very much mistaken, My Fantastic Mr Foxx.”

Foxx snarled and manhandled him the rest of the way, pushing him over the desk, and despite his apparent irritation he did allow for the pillow to be arranged first before shoving Gresinka’s head down to the wooden surface with a thump. “Okay, firstly, if you ever refer to me as Fantastic Mr Foxx again, I will beat you to death, no regrets. Secondly, I thought I told you to call me sir?”

“Right,” Gresinka said from where his head was still being held flat against the dark wood of the desk. “Silly me.  _ Sir, _ ” he drawled the word making it sound like both sex and scorn.

Foxx growled again and smacked Gresinka’s ass, harder this time, enough to leave an angry red mark against the skin. Then he fished a condom out of his pocket, opening the packet with his teeth and then seeming to struggle with the logistics of putting it on – he appeared reluctant to take his hands away from the red mark he had made, like he was trying to soak up heat through the skin. Finally he freed himself from his pants to put it on, not bothering to do more than shoving them down slightly. 

As he lined himself up, clearly trusting his partner to have prepared himself adequately, Vivian once again felt a little pang of regret for not taking him to her own bed first. Gresinka, his head craned over his own shoulder for a glance, also looked a little regretful, although probably for other reasons. Foxx was a big boy.

Gresinka visibly attempted to relax his body, but he still winced with the intrusion, muttering slightly and shifting under Foxx’s weight over his back. Foxx ignored him, and relentlessly pushed his way inside until their hips were flush together. They stayed like that for a moment, Gresinka’s cheek resting on the desk, his eyes closed and Foxx just staring at him. Then, having apparently got himself under control, or soaked up enough pleasure in just looking at his partner beneath him, Foxx bent over and whispered something, Gresinka nodded and Foxx grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it to make Gresinka bend unnaturally backwards, before starting to move his hips. He was far from gentle, but there was something almost caring in the way kept leaning forward to murmur in Gresinka’s ear, a task made easier by the arched position achieved by the hand in the other man’s thick black hair. It was an appealing sight, although Vivian had expected more… violence maybe? A little less care. She wondered what he was saying. Sweet nothings? Or filthy promises?

Gresinka started to shift about a little, getting on his toes when Foxx gave a powerful thrust of his hips. Somehow intuiting what his partner wanted Foxx grabbed at one of Gresinka’s thighs, hiking it up slightly and changing the angle – the move made Gresinka groan loud enough he could probably be heard in the hallway.

“You like that?” Foxx asked, a little breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah, I like that, you bastard.”

“Mouthy considering the position you’re in.”

“Save your breath and  _ fuck _ me.”

Foxx pulled back on the hair in his hand, not dropping Gresinka’s thigh, and keeping up the powerful movement of his hips. He was flushed over the bridge of his nose and down his chest, eyes wild with a fierce emotion.

“Shut up, dickhead,” he said and Gresinka laughed his mad little laugh, in between little puffing grunts of pleasure.

“You always this loopy when you fuck?” Foxx asked, keeping up his measured pace with some apparent difficulty.

“You always talk this much?”

Foxx chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest, and yanked harder on the hair in his hand. The arched position had to be restricting Gresinka’s breathing a little, but then, perhaps he was enjoying that too.

“Fuck” Gresinka gasped and shuddered violently, his eyes popping wide then screwing shut. Foxx pushed him back down flat against the desk, his cheek pressed against the wood and his body now limp as Foxx chased his own orgasm, biting down hard on the scarred shoulder beneath him and making Gresinka mewl like a disgruntled kitten.

After a long moment, Foxx pulled out, noticeably trying to control his breathing. He took off the condom, chucked toward the bin and scooped up Gresinka’s discarded shorts. Then he wiped himself down with them and tossed them in Gresinka’s general direction. He dressed himself fully in the short time it took for Gresinka to push himself up from the desk and look grumpily at this stained shorts.

“Not so good at this aftercare shit are you?” he asked, a little morosely. As he wiped away lube and come with Foxx’s pillow case rather than his own underwear. He didn’t bother dressing. Just sat there, at ease in his own skin in a way Foxx clearly was not.

It was Foxx’s turn to look with disgust at the cushion clutched in Gresinka’s hands, now liberally stained with bodily fluids.

“Next time let’s see if I can make you come without you rubbing off on my pillow.” He said after a moment

“Bold of you to assume a next time,” Gresinka said archly. Already grinning a little.

“I would be money on it, you bendy little freak.” Foxx grinned, and suddenly looked his twenty two years. Proud of himself after a successful show of sexual prowess. 

She watched them make weird small talk for a few more minutes, before Gresinka slipped out to make it back to his bunk before dawn, and Foxx tossed the pillow to the floor apparently resigning himself to go without as he bedded down to catch an hour or so of sleep.

That had been an interesting watch. Lots to learn about her boys – Gresinka seemed simple enough, manipulative and perhaps a little unhinged, but Foxx had been a surprising muddle of contradictions. Both assertive and dominant, while also showing signs of anxiety and doubt. Very interesting. Perhaps it was time to test her possessiveness theory.

Perhaps it was time for Gresinka to undergo his first test of the new fear toxin. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long wait for this one >.< work chewed me up and spat me out. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos - I treasure every one, even though I am rubbish at replying!

Jason woke with a pleasant ache in his muscles, like he had a run a strenuous but not overly taxing mission last night, and he stretched, still blinking free of sleep. Why was his pillow on the floor? Then he remembered; he had fucked Dick Grayson. He had  _ fucked Dick Grayson _ . Holy shit. The memory made his already half-hard morning wood twitch with interest.

God, he hoped they could do that again, though perhaps somewhere less fraught. He hoped Dick had enjoyed it as much as he had - hoped it had been good enough for a repeat performance. - but Jason wasn’t going to let a little self-doubt and performance anxiety harsh his day. He felt awesome, like he was on top of the world. It was going to be a good day, and watching Dick take his inevitable punishment was going to be extra sweet, with a replay of last night playing in his mind. 

Because, seriously,  _ holy shit _ .

  
  


Apparently, it was not going to be a good day after all. It was in fact, going to be a shit day. First, Ivanovich smirked at him, eyes all too knowing as he shoved paperwork into Jason’s arms, nearly making him drop it all over the floor. “Next time, use a gag,” Ivanovich suggested, still smirking, “And you’ve got to get this all written up today. You’ve got three hours.”

So instead of heading to the training yard to watch Dick twist and jump over the course, like he was a creature of air and wind instead of flesh and blood, he was stuck writing reports, which sucked.

And then it got worse - after hours of tedious work, Ivanovich banged the door to the office open and leaned casually in the doorway. “It’s time,” he said.

Jason’s heart sank – there was only one thing that could be, and that meant they were  _ fucked _ . 

  
  


Jason’s recruits were already in the lab when he arrived, the Fish Tank standing ominously behind them.

“ So,” Dr Vern said, as he entered. “Ready for the first test?” It wasn’t clear if she was talking to him or to the apprehensive-looking trainees grouped behind her.

Dick was looking outwardly relaxed, dressed in his dark combat fatigues, with that effortless grace and self possession he always seemed to wear like a cloak. Jason had an inappropriate flash to the feel of being inside him, the heat of it, and the heady pleasure of holding him down.  _ Mind on the job. _ The job that was about to potentially go to hell in spectacular, chaotic fashion. This was going to suck for all of them, and probably Dick in particular. 

“ There’s nothing to worry about,” Dr Vern said, with the barest hint of a smile “This is standard. To see if you have what it takes to progress further, and to give me a chance to study some of the more interesting side effects this new strain has.”

Dick perked up, and Jason cut in before he could speak, “Side effects? What side effects?” he asked. Dick shut his mouth and gave a rueful little shrug as Jason glared out the corner of his eye. He would never learn not to talk out of turn, apparently. 

“ If I tell you, it might affect the results. We will be monitoring you all closely, so not to worry. Gresinka, you first. Boots and shirt off.”

Of  _ course _ it would be Dick first, so they had no chance to prepare for whatever this strain would do. Jason only hopped it wouldn’t be the most recent one Vern had been working on. That would be unfortunate, and potentially disastrous.

Dick stripped off his shirt, completely unashamed to be revealing both the bruises from the fight, and the bruises from the previous nights’ extracurricular activities. Jason could see the outlines of where his fingers had been, pushing against skin then Dick bent to undo the laces on his boots and, oh Jesus, there were  _ teeth _ marks in his shoulder. Jason fought to keep his face impassive, but he could feel himself blush. Quickly, he averted his eyes, taking in the scorn and the hate on Kellner’s face instead. That was better, much safer; he could concentrate on that contempt and how it was going to screw with the mission – it was easier when he had people’s respect, or if he could regain it by taking someone out – but Dick’s presence meant that was off the table. He wished it wasn’t though, as he watched Lane watch Dick.Although he had a similar expression of dislike on his face there was something more lurking underneath it; hot and envious. It made a ball of anger and anxiety curdle in Jason’s gut. This was a new danger, an unexpected one and he didn’t like it one bit.

Dick stood, smooth and graceful as ever, as he casually shucked his pants and slid his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. “You want these too?” he asked, batting his lashes at Dr Vern like a coy schoolgirl.

Dr Vern’s lips twitched, just a little. “No, you can hang onto those.” Jason suspected by this time she had seen everything there was to see of Dick and more. The way her eyes were lingering on Jason’s crotch more than usual, indicated she had probably enjoyed it too. Embarrassing.

Dick, clearly having reached a similar conclusion, grinned and shrugged, like it was her loss. 

Dr Vern strapped electrodes to Dick’s bare chest and back, while he smiled stupidly at her, his eyes wide and guileless in a way that Jason could never manage no matter how hard he tried. Like so much of what Dick presented to the world, it was nothing more than an artful lie - Jason could see the slight tension in his body. He knew as well as Jason that this was not only going to suck, but was also potentially dangerous – depending on how strong the stain was, and what he saw when he was under it, there was no telling how he would react. Hopefully the training B had put his protégé through for a situation such as this would be enough. Jason had managed it – but that was before all the tweaking and tampering with the toxin had started.

It was a serious concern, and so were these alleged side effects.

Still, there was nothing they could do but see what happened. Dick stepped into the tank, still seemingly relaxed, and slid to the floor cross legged as he made himself comfortable. Every other person Jason had seen go through a similar trial had remained standing, determined to face what was to come head on. Trust Dick to look like he was attending a school assembly rather than braced to undergo some pretty intense mental torture -although, perhaps school assembly had been like that for Dick. Heaven knew he couldn’t sit still as an adult, as a child it must have been a torment.

It started slow, as it always did, the slight flickering of Dick’s eyes and the increase of his heart rate on the monitors. Jason wished he didn’t have to watch. It felt like a punishment for last night, somehow. 

In the tank, Dick’s throat worked as he swallowed, his fingers clenching where they rested on his bare knees. Although his face still looked calm, his heart rate was up to a wild stuttering, another man might have already been climbing the walls. Jason almost wished Dick was – holding out like this would probably mean he just got given more.

“ Any minute now,” Lane said, a smirk in his voice. “And the kid’s going to flip.”

Kellner cut him a sideways look, “Yeah, but I’ll be betting he can take a lot. And it’s going to be ugly, too.”

Jason frowned, “You’ve changed your tune, not two days ago you were saying how he’d crack the first waft of the toxin he got.”

Now Lane was looking at Kellner too – he  _ had _ said that. Kellner wiped a hand across his mouth with an anxious motion. “That was before I saw him fight.”

“ He’s good,” Lane agreed, “but that doesn’t mean anything to the gas – it takes you however talented you are.”

“ Depends who trained you,” Kellner said, his eyes sliding back to the tank. Dick was still sitting on the floor, but there was now obvious tension through his whole body, and he appeared to be muttering under his breath. A mantra or plea, perhaps?

“ What does that matter?” Jason asked, this was feeling like a slide into disaster – Kellner knew something, or thought he did, and one wrong word could send the shit sailing into the proverbial fan quicker than Tim downed his first coffee of the day. 

Kellner sneered at him, that charming look of disgust still in his eyes. “You don’t got any idea what kind of little viper you have in your bed, do you?” he laughed. “Kid’s as bad as they come - he’s going to chew you up and spit you out.” 

“ Who I take to my bed is not your concern,” Jason said tightly. They were all looking at Kellner now, including Vern and Ivanovich. Jason shifted his stance slightly – this was a potential powder keg and he didn’t want Dick to be in the blast radius if it went off.

Kellner smirked at him, preening a little under the attention.

“ So?” Lane prompted, “You recognised his style?”

“ Yeah,” Kellner said, with a nod. “I watched footage of some of the best out there – not the capes, the real fighters. The killers.” 

_ Not the capes. _ Jason had a sudden flash of inspiration – he knew  _ exactly _ what Kellner had seen. And he smiled slow and insulting. “Oh, you mean  _ Slade _ ?” he gestured lightly, “I mean, Deathstroke the Terminator?” he kept his voice casual, loving as the smugness fell off Kellner’s face. Talk about stealing someone’s thunder. “I recognised the style too. I’ve worked with the old man before, although only on the odd job – I never trained with him like, whatshisname, Rendezvous?” he jerked his thumb towards the glass.

“ Renegade,” Lane corrected.

“ Right, Renegade.” 

Kellner’s face was twisted up angrily. He looked a split second from exploding into violence, when suddenly there was a loud _bang! f_rom behind them. Jason almost punched Kellner, just on instinct, but quickly recognised the danger was elsewhere and shifted into a defensive stance instead. The other people in the room also jumped, so he didn’t feel too embarrassed about it – what did make him feel a little ashamed, was that in his enjoyment of smacking Kellner down, he had forgotten about Dick.

In the tank.

With the fear gas. 

They were all reminded now as Dick punched the glass again with a loud  _ thump _ . He didn’t look scared, he looked furious.

_ Thump, thump!  _ Full strength punches were striking the tank with unerring precision, again and again in the same spot. He had started to leave bloody smears where his fist hit the glass, which shook under the impact.

“ Interesting, ” Vern said as she peered at him, while the rest of them shifted back. Despite the fact that the glass was built to withstand bullets Dick’s intensity was making even Jason’s hair stand on end, and when Dick pivoted suddenly and launched a staggeringly powerful kick to the glass with his heel , Jason stepped back with the rest. 

Note to self: don’t mess with Dick when he was hopped up on fear gas, or rage juice, or whatever this mutant strain was. 

“ Err...,” Ivanovich said, a little awkward. “Perhaps we should knock him out before he does himself an injury?”

_ Or somehow breaks though the impenetrable glass and murders everyone. _ They were all thinking it.

“ Perhaps,” Dr Vern mused, still writing her notes. “This is very interesting – I wonder what he’s seeing?” 

“ You can ask him, when he’s less nuts?” Jason offered. Knocking him out sounded exactly like the right thing to do. “Were you expecting this?” he asked as Dick’s heel smacked into the glass again with a resounding thud. “I’ve never seen fear gas do this.”

Dr Vern hummed a little, squinting through the glass. “Well, it was a possibility. It’s  _ always _ a possibility. The fear builds up and the mind has to deal with it, but so does the body – all that adrenaline, lots of flight/fight chemicals. Gresinka’s mind funnelled those fear related chemicals into ‘fight.’” She shrugged, and gestured for Ivanovich to hit the button for the knockout gas. “Of course this strain  _ is _ a little more geared towards this result.” 

The second gas began pumping into the tank and Dick slowly slid to the floor, still snarling and scrabbling at the glass like an animal. God, Jason hoped there were no further effects from this. 

“ Good experiment,” Ivanovich said, “Who's next?” No one looked eager. 

The glass doors slid open with a  _ snick _ , and Dr Vern stepped inside. She knelt next to Dick and injected him with a syringe. “That should do it. When he wakes up, he will be back to normal.” She nodded at Jason, to his surprise, “Patch him up – I want to see you both in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

Not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and despite his misgivings, Jason scooped Dick up with a grunt of effort – he wasn’t a large man, but he was a heavy son of a bitch. “If you don’t mind,” he said, heading for the door.

“ Are you serious?” Kellner snarled, “You’re just going to let them leave? What about the rest of us?”

Jason was rather curious about that too, he could feel that something in Vern’s attitude had shifted. Whether it was the dramatic effect of the gas, or the reveal over Dick’s ‘training,’ wasn't clear – but either were potentially worrying.

“ Are you questioning me?” Vern said, mildly, as Gregor was stripping off his shirts and boots – clearly the next for the Tank. 

“ No, but..”

Jason kicked the door to the lab open, and made his escape.

  
  


He made it back to his room without further incident – but his mind was on overdrive; a toxic combination of worry over ‘side effects’ and if whatever Dick just went though would have any lasting effects. Not to mention concern over what Vern had planned for them tomorrow - why did she send him away? What changed in that short time? Was she going to get rid of him? Move him? Was looking after Dick just supposed to keep him occupied? Was this because he had slept with Dick? The unanswered questions were going to drive him mad.

His heart was pounding with all the possibilities and he dropped Dick on the bed less gently than perhaps he should have. First step was probably patching up the wounds to Dick’s knuckles and to check his ankles and feet hadn’t sustained any damage from his ridiculous high kicks. Even out of his mind the man was a show off. 

He tended the split knuckles, wiping away blood and wrapping them carefully, before inspecting Dick’s left ankle, feeling the delicate shift of bones in his hands. There didn’t seem to be any obvious issues but he wrapped it tightly anyway, just in case. He was part way through the right one when Dick woke, whimpering a little, and stretching like a disgruntled kitten. 

“ Wha’?” he said.

“ Gresinka,” Jason said, just in case he needed reminding – nothing like a dose of intense drugs to make you forget your undercover identity. “Welcome back.”

“ What happened?” Dick mumbled, tugging his foot out of Jason’s grip and pushing himself into a sitting position to blink dazedly at it, as he flexed his toes like he wasn’t sure what they were. 

“ Fear gas,” Jason said, “Made you go a bit Rambo, if he was on meth and 72 hours without sleep.”

“ Oh,” Dick said. 

“ Yeah, ‘oh’. It was intense. How’d you feel now? Murderey?”

“ I feel achy. And like I just woke up from the world's worst nightmare. I can still feel it, the residue of it, like it's stuck to my skin.” 

“ Sounds delightful.” Jason handed him a glass of water and Dick sipped at it, then gulped it down like he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was. He shuddered, looking at his bound knuckles. 

“ I remember,” he said. “Or, at least, I remember like it was someone else.” He shuddered again. 

Jason wasn’t exactly sure how to act. He felt very uncomfortable, sitting on the side of the bed like some kind of oversized nursemaid, while Dick was hunched in the wreckage of the bed covers and staring at his hands like he expected them to rear up and bite him. 

“ You, er, hungry or anything?” Jason asked, eventually. Anything to fill the awkward silence.

“ No. More water maybe?”

Grateful for something to do, Jason leapt up to refill his glass. “So, it seems the secret is out,” he said, as he handed it back.

“ Which one?” Dick asked, he still sounded dazed. 

“ The one where you trained under Turdstroke the Deathemater “

Dick snorted, and finally looked up at him and Jason ruthlessly squashed down the rush of pride for getting a positive reaction. 

“ Turdstroke?” his expression was half amusement, half rueful disgust. “So they know I’m... um...”

“ Renegade, yeah.”

“ Huh,” he shrugged

Dick was looking at him now, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Why do you look like such an awkward turtle? I mean you were balls deep in me yesterday, we’re a bit past awkward, aren’t we?”

There were no words to fully express both how much Jason hated Dick Grayson and how unbearably attracted to him he was. To his intense humiliation, he could feel the flush forming over his face, like a damn sunburn. 

Dick’s grin went from amused to dark and hungry in a second. “Love how flustered you are. Get here, you,” He shot forward like a striking snake and grabbed at Jason’s bangs, yanking him into a kiss. There were teeth, and Dick’s grip in his hair was painful, but the sensation just sent shivers up his spine. And yeah, he wasn’t sure it this was just what Dick was like with his lovers; if it was a post massive trauma reaction, whether he was being ‘Gresinka,’ or if this was some holdover from being dosed, but Jason didn’t complain any, even though he probably should have. 

Instead he licked over the bites and bruises from the previous night, ran his tongue up Dick’s chest, caught a nipple in his teeth and bit down, making Dick gasp and squirm. His skin tasted tangy and sharp from the fear sweat, with a chemical undertone - it wasn’t nice, but somehow it was  _ hot _ . Dick’s arms suddenly shot out holding Jasons face for a moment and squishing his cheeks into a no-doubt extremely stupid expression. Then he twisted from underneath and flipped Jason onto his back like he wasn’t out-weighed and out-sized, pushing him into the mattress, and grinning down at him with sharp teeth. “Gonna ride you so hard,” he said, attacking Jason’s pants.

Jason let himself be stripped. His mind was tumbling – he knew he was looking at Dick like he was the last drink of water in a desert; everything was a little too bright and moving a little too fast. But he just grabbed Dick’s thighs as Dick wiped lube from his fingers onto the bedsheets and made good on his promise; lowering himself onto Jason’s suddenly very interested cock. Once settled, skin to skin, he started to move, hands flat against Jason’s chest and grinning down at him with a wild light in his eyes.

Fucking like this was a frantic kind of dance, a bit like fighting – Dick was leading, but Jason was giving as good as he got, thrusting his hips to meet Dick’s downward motions. He loved the way Dick’s breath would leave his lungs in a gasp when Jason slammed into him, and the way sweat was beading on his face as he tipped his head back. Jason had to grit his teeth, and clutch at Dick to keep himself steady and not embarrass himself. He vaguely thought he should jerk Dick off, but couldn’t quite coordinate his hands to do more than hold on to the slick skin under his fingers. Dick looked wild and beautiful, arched back, muscles in his legs clenching as he raised and lowered himself.

Jason couldn’t help thinking that he was never going to be able to let him go after this. If anyone else touched him, he would kill them. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. And people would – everyone wanted him. Distantly he felt indignant at the thought of any one  _ not _ wanting him. Which was stupid, especially as the idea of Dick doing this with someone else filled him with rage and fear, and a jealousy so intense that his mind became almost overwhelmed. He would kill whoever touched him, Kill them both. No one else should have this.

He twisted, somehow avoiding breaking his cock off, and resettled with Dick underneath him, looking up at him with that mad light in his eyes, “Fuck me, Jay. Don’t let me forget it. Make me yours,  _ only _ yours,” he said, or at least Jason  _ thought _ that’s what he said. It was strange, but he couldn’t remember seeing his mouth move. Dick had hold of his hair again, as Jason bit at him, breaking skin, and fucked him hard enough the bed clanged against the wall so loudly he should have been embarrassed, but instead he licked up the blood that was suddenly in his mouth as his orgasm shot through his body like lightning; unexpected and blinding. 

  
  


“ Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Dick said weakly from beside him. Jason blinked, through a haze. Had he passed out? What the hell? He remembered… a swirl of sex and sparks and terrifying thoughts of jealousy and murder. That, and the fact he had been rough – violent even, and he felt a different kind of fear claw at him. “Dickie?” he croaked, his throat tight.

Dick was looking at him, eyes half lidded, with his hair sticking up in sweat- soaked spikes. “You always fuck like that when you’re worried about someone?” he asked. “Because I gotta say, I might get myself experimented on more often.”

Jason wet his lips. “Did I hurt you?” he asked. Dick seemed completely fine, if a little dazed, but he wasn’t  _ sure _ .

“ I’m good – even if you did fuck me so hard I’ll feel it for a  _ week _ , damn that was intense.” 

“ I think,” Jason said carefully, “that it is a bad idea to lick someone who has just been covered in fear gas for thirty minutes.” 

“ What? Oh shit, Foxx, are  _ you _ okay?”

“ Not sure if that was the best or worst sex of my life.” Jason admitted after a moment.

“ But you’re okay?”

“ Yeah, I think so. Scared the shit out of myself, but also feel like I just had the most incredible orgasm ever. So,” he shrugged.

“ Well then, I guess we’ll have to have another go later to make up for the more unpleasant parts.” Dick did the eyebrow thing at him, and draped a sweaty arm over Jason’s chest, nuzzling at his neck, hiding his lips so he could whisper safely. “Although after that pounding, I’m pretty sure my ass needs a rest –so perhaps when we get out of here, you would like a taste of your own medicine?”

Something in Jason’s chest rose up like it wanted to punch right out of his skin.  _ When we get out of here _ . That strongly implied this was more than just passing time on the mission. He breathed out. Letting tension he didn’t know he was holding leave with the rush of his breath. 

“ You’ll have a lot to live up to - I hear I’m very intense. Think you got what it takes?” he replied..

He could feel Dick’s grin against his skin. “Jaybird, I’m gonna rock your world.”

Jason couldn’t stop his own grin sliding out. “Do you ever say anything that’s not a giant cliche?”

“ Not if I can help it, no.” 

Jason snorted, feeling suddenly lighter. “So let's get this crap wrapped up while the going's good, huh?”

“ Mmm,” Dick agreed sleepily. 

Later, Jason figured he should probably stop taunting the universe with statements like ‘ _ while the going's good, _ ’ because fate, luck and whatever other deities were out there laughing at his expense, would never fail to take that as a challenge.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sharon for the Beta
> 
> And thank you to burkesl17 and takadainmate, who joined me for a very windy February weekend by the British seaside for some serious fic writing and wine. 
> 
> Now finish your damn fic, takadainmate!

  
  


Vivian rubbed her tired eyes and smiled as she looked over the footage of Foxx and Gresinka fighting. It was spectacular, and showcased both mens’ considerable talents. It also revealed just how well they could read and play off each other. It was also just what she had been looking for. 

There were some red-flags though - would Foxx have told her that Gresinka had been trained by Deathstroke if it hadn’t come up in Kellner’s unexpected revelation? That bothered her a little, but not enough to still the flutter of excitement in her belly - they were perfect for what she had in mind. It wasn’t just one thing, it was many; the way they worked together, the skills they had – the way Gresinka had acted under the influence – that deadly grace, the beauty of the violence that exploded out of him. It was perfect for stage two. She would be sad to lose Foxx’s training of the newbies, he was good with the recruits; hard but rarely cruel. However the loss was one she could deal with, there were other men and women who could do that job – fewer people who could achieve what she hoped Foxx and Gresinka could under her direction. 

The trick was going to be giving them what they wanted, so they were happy to do as  _ she  _ wanted. She had a feeling Gresinka was ambitious only so far as having his needs and desires met – he wanted money, he wanted to be mentally and physically engaged, and he wanted to fight, to kill. He wasn’t after power - at least not the kind that came with politics. Though he was a vicious and cunning individual, he seemed a simple creature at heart. 

Foxx was a little more complex – he wanted authority, he wanted control, but he didn’t seem to want ultimate power. He did, however, want to control those under him and to have their respect. He was a delicious mix of contradictions. Vivian had no doubt that he thought he was the one calling the shots in this relationship with Gresinka. She was also sure he was completely and utterly wrong about that. 

At a sharp rap on the door to her office she switched off the footage, her eyes flicking towards the clock on the wall. “Come,” she said, rubbing at her face again. Despite the excitement of being able to instigate stage two, she had been up most of the night. The testing had been intense, as it always was, and the data had been very interesting - interesting enough that she had spent most of the past six hours pouring over it, comparing it to previous runs. Gresinka's results had been the most fascinating; the most pure and aggressive. But Pirez had also produced some amazing results – of course he had also ripped out his own eye and they had been forced to put him down like a rabid dog, but the data was intriguing. Seeing the difference in the physiological responses of both men was worth losing one of them. It had led her down new paths of possibility. 

”Dr Vern?” Foxx asked from the other side of her desk, snapping her from her thoughts. “You wanted to see me? Us?”

Vivian blinked and looked at her two men. Gresinka was standing slightly behind Foxx, but the small smirk on his face was a good indication of who was in control here. His hands were neatly bandaged, the bruised and torn knuckles hidden from view, but she remembered the force and determination with which he had hit the glass, and she suppressed a pleased shiver. 

“Gresinka, Foxx. Sit.” She gestured to the chairs. Foxx sat, back straight, legs splayed wide; cocky, dominant. Gresinka flowed into his chair, in what she could only call a perfectly balanced slouch. He was poised, despite the way he had folded himself down into his seat. He looked relaxed, disinterested even, but he was like a coiled snake; ready to move and strike at a moments notice. 

“Have you recovered well?” She asked him politely.

Gresinka smiled, his full lips tilting to one side. “Sure, hands all fixed up, didn’t kill Foxx when we got back to the room. Some of the… other side effects were quite enjoyable.”

“Oh?” she asked, in the same, slightly arch tone he had used.

“Yeah, we fucked so hard the bed dented the wall. I’m not kidding, it really did totally trash your paintwork. Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. 

Vivian was both amused and slightly delighted to see Foxx go completely red. Even the tips of his ears were pink. It was fascinating a man with so much self assurance was embarrassed at the talk of sex. He hadn’t reacted like that to her advances. Perhaps it was because Gresinka was a man? Or because of the crudity with which it was spoken about? 

Gresinka clearly had no such issues. He was eyeing the flush staining Foxx’s cheeks like he wanted to lick it. Well, at least they seemed to be genuinely sexually compatible, and it made Gresinka’s loyalty slightly more likely to be maintained - at least until he got bored. Which, judging from the predatory expression on his face, wouldn’t be for a while yet. She would have to watch the footage from last night - with all the chaos of the testing she hadn’t had time, and it was bound to be something good from that blush. That and the fact it might contain more data about side effects. Still, that was for later - they had other matters to deal with first. 

“You could both go far,” she began, watching them carefully. “There are many opportunities in this business, for men such as yourselves. If you have a good...” she tapped her lip, eyes narrowed, as she searched for the correct word “.. a good ally, directing you from behind the scenes.”

“Directing us to what?” Foxx asked bluntly.

“Who to kill,” she returned, just as frankly. “How to kill them for the correct impact. A person, well chosen, can be the most deadly weapon in  one's  arsenal, and if such a person were deployed at essential points, they could bring a government to its knees in a matter of days. Do it right and the rewards will be beyond imagining.” 

Foxx snorted. “I have a pretty good imagination,” he said, his brow furrowing. He was interested, that was clear - but cautious. 

Gresinka’s eyes were narrowed and twinkling with the possibilities, he leant forward, putting his elbow on the desk, and fluttering his obscenely long lashes at her. “But will it be _fun_?” he asked.

Sociopaths; so good to work with in the right circumstances. 

“We can make it fun.” She leaned forward, mirroring him, and enjoying the way his eyes slipped down to her cleavage as she did so. It didn't come as any surprise to her he liked  women as well as men, or that his  eyes would wander. She was curious what Foxx might make of it - that could be an issue, but it was another one for later. “What would you like?” She asked, letting her voice sound smooth and rich, rather than her usual clipped tones. “Warm bodies to play with? Cold bodies?”

“I want a challenge,” Gresinka smiled, and it reminded Vivian of a tiny spark about to catch dry tinder and raze a forest to the ground. “I want a fight.”

“I can give you that. I can give you whatever you want. You just need to do what I tell you – and whatever rewards you wish, are yours for the taking.”

“As tempting as this is,” Foxx broke in. He was scowling, and the way he was eyeing her bosom, like it was a live rattlesnake he might need to shoot in the head, she didn't think it was her offer that was causing him aggravation. That possessiveness would be very useful - as long as it wasn’t directed towards her. She might invite Gresinka into her bed anyway, but would have to take pains to make sure Foxx didn’t find out. As it was, he continued to glare at her, but he was too much of a professorial to start a fight now. “What's the catch?” He asked brusquely.

“No catch. You do as I ask, you kill who I tell you to. That’s it.” She leaned back in her chair, a smiling slightly. “Other than that, you are free to live as you please however you want. Money, luxury… or more specialised rewards.” 

She could see she had Gresinka, but Foxx ’s eyes were narrow, as if although he was searching for hidden meaning in her words. There wasn't any though, because she meant what she said – at least until they had stopped being useful, even then, as long as they were not endangering her or her mission. 

“Do you have a job for us?” Gresinka asked, his elbows still resting on her desk. He was twitching in excitement, like he was only just restraining himself from leaping about in excitement. A happy, deadly puppy. 

“A test. Yes, I won’t pretend it’s not. You pull this job off for me, both of you, working as an elite unit? And we can choose our path going forward. You can travel the world – be challenged by some of the best security systems, defeat the most feared fighters.” It seemed like a stupid incentive to her, but Gresinka seemed like the type of person who might be the sort to enjoy that sort of thing. 

“I’m in,” Gresinka said, proving her right.

Foxx rolled his eyes. “Not so fast, when would we start? Where would we start?”

“Who cares!” Gresinka said, “Who do we kill ? How. How do you want us to do it – or can we choose? That is what you want us for right? Assassins?”

“The new recruits  haven't even finished training!” Foxx protested. 

Vivian waved a hand. “You've done an excellent job, Foxx, but it’s time for bigger and better things.”

Gresinka moved back from the table, the motion as smooth as silk. He leaned  into Foxx‘s space and looked up at him. It wasn't overly seductive, but his eyes were alive with excitement – the charisma, the pull of his personality, even sucked at Vivian’s control, making her shiver. Foxx didn't stand a chance. As long as she gave Gresinka what he needed, Foxx was hers too. 

Satisfied she  straightened the papers on her desk in a clear dismissal. “You ship out tomorrow, to Eastern Europe.” 

Gresinka seemed to brighten at the prospect, and she wondered if it was because he missed his homeland, or because he was excited to be causing chaos and destruction there. 

Foxx was still frowning, a wrinkle between his brows. He clearly wasn't keen on leaving his recruits unfinished. But only one or perhaps two would survive – at best. So he was just being stubborn. She wasn’t worried - Gresinka wanted in, and Foxx would follow.

“Tomorrow,” Gresinka confirmed, grinning at her, he looked like he was genuine, but there was a calculating coolness in his eyes. She found it reassuring. She found the way Foxx seemed caught in the other man's wake reassuring too. They would make a good team. Foxx was smart and level headed, where Gresinka was passionate and bright as a wildfire. 

They left her office, and she leaned back in her chair, satisfied. She had a little work to do, but tonight she would look over the tapes – she was keen to see them smash the paint off the wall with their sexual enthusiasm, even though voyeurism wasn’t really her kink. She was sure it would only give her further insight into the apparent lingering effects of the drug. 

And, if she was honest, it was probably going to be hot as hell. 

Outside, behind the shack that passed as the toilets for the recruits doing the outside courses, Jason shuddered as he looked down, biting back a moan that was trying to escape him. There was nothing as wild or hot as Dick Grayson on his knees, taking Jason’s cock deep into his throat. He wasn’t nearly as… polished at giving head as Jason had suspected he would be, but what he lost in finesse he more than made up for in messy enthusiasm. There was drool running out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin, dripping  onto the floor. And all the time his eyes were locked to Jason’s as he bobbed his head, choking stubbornly by taking in more than he could handle. It was almost more than _Jason_ could handle - making him shiver and tingle from head to foot at the sight. 

They should stop though, he knew that, distantly. He had wanted to say ‘We should talk,’ or ‘this could be a disaster.’ or any variation of ‘This will move things up beyond what we’re ready for, we have to end the mission now.’ But instead he had let Dick push him against the wall and suck on his tongue, then let Dick fumble his pants down and mouth him through his underwear before swallowing him down.

And now he couldn’t say anything, could only moan as he felt his legs wobble. There were a lot of things they probably should have been doing, other than this - preparations to make, evidence to find, but for some reason, he just couldn't make himself care.

There was something not quite right about that.

But instead of bringing it up, he gasped when he felt a spit slicked finger brush against his hole, and his knees actually shook. Dick looked like he was grinning around the cock filling his mouth, as he pushed past any resistance – one finger becoming two while Jason blinked and shook at the sensations. He wasn't deep, not yet, but the feeling of it was sending flickers of sparks through Jason’s body, It should have hurt, or been shocking. But it just felt like liquid fire, licking over his bones, warm and unstoppable. 

He wanted to push Dick down and fuck him until he bled.

He wanted Dick to stop with the gentle teasing and kick Jason to his knees, take him roughly and make him _beg_. 

Even as Dick finger fucked him, and made him come with his sinful mouth.. H he knew there was something not right.

But there were too many feelings, tinged with wild violence and a flame of possessiveness like he had never known before. There was him, and there was Dick. 

Even after he has come down from his high, propped against the wall, panting with the effort to catch his breath and watching Dick as he lay slumped on the muddy ground, eyes closed, and soft cock exposed and resting against his cum splattered belly. Something was off, he knew it was. 

He just didn't care. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best wishes to everyone quarantined, in isolation or just trying to get by (which is basically everyone at the moment) - stay safe!


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